What a pity I can't sing as poets do
for, could I,
this is what I would do:
I would caress your body
with words so fresh and new
to make you purr in luxury
and forget every damned woe.
What a pity I can't sing as poets do
for, could I,
this is what I would do:
I would soothe your soul
with words so fresh and new
to make you smile through tears
and forget every damned woe.
What a pity I can't sing as poets do
for, could I,
that's what I would do!
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Stan Sýkora, Arese, April 1997
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